Sold: The Vampire's Slave

Hope

My eyes flutter open. I frown, why does my back hurt so much? My bed has never been so uncomfortable. Nor have I ever woken in pain from a restful slumber. I blink a few times in the darkness and sit up. I rub my eyes and look around. My mouth hangs open ajar. The realization of everything slaps me across the face sending sickening nausea into the pit of my stomach. If not for my aches and pains, I'd assume I was still in some terrible nightmare. My back is sore, and my legs are stiff from sleeping against a wall. However, I am thankful for the draft near the bars that promises cold fresh air. I take a deep breath, holding it in for as long as I can. The freshness disappears and is replaced with that smell again. My gagging has stopped, but none the less, the basement is still stifling. Filth covers my clothes. It's an embarrassing sight or sore eyes. The thought of mother seeing me like is, embarrassing her name, makes my stomach hurt. 'This is awful,' I note, pulling my legs up to my chest. The familiar position is comforting, but not for long. Never in my life could I return home in this state. No one would disgrace their eyes, looking at me like this. I lick my dry lips together and shut my eyes. Why is my memory of home blurry and fuzzy?

"Are you okay?" asks a voice. I look up to see the wolf-boy I'd met yesterday. 'I still have yet to find out the wolf-boy's name,' I realize.

"Yes, I'm quite all right," I reply softly, my voice quivering. My throat is starting to ache, and my lips are chapped. My tongue feels sticky and swollen from the peach before. Oh, woe is me.

"I'm Cole, who are you?" he questions me.

"My name is Rosella Mason," I reply, almost tripping over my tongue when I speak. I meet the sandy blondes' bright blue eyes.

"I-I- don't mean to be rude, but uh- um," I start to ask, a bit afraid to ask. I don't want to be rude, not when we just met. My tongue becomes like a twister, unable to make words. How am I supposed to ask this? It seemed not only rude but too odd to even try to put into words. He chuckles softly, knowing what I am trying to ask.

"What am I?" he guesses the obvious. I didn't mean any offense, so I nod my head sheepishly. He leans back against the wall outside the iron bars.

"I'm a werewolf, half-human, and half-wolf," he informs me. He looks off away from me, and then his eyebrows furrow together. Cole gives me a curious look, "Might you never saw one before?" Cole questions, as if in disbelief. I bite my lip and shrug. "You're joking, right?" he presses on further. I shake my head, unsure why he was asking. Were they, or his type, species- whatever so common? His smile dies, and his eyes drop to the floor. Cole bites his bottom lip.

"I didn't know vampires or werewolves existed, to be honest. I-I thought they were only a part of legends and folklore," I confess, offering a small smile to lighten the situation.

"Sorry, you have to be dragged into our world. The supernatural," Cole apologizes, grimacing. 'The world of the supernatural?' I wonder. 'What is the world of the supernatural, then? What is out there other than the human race that is lying in the darkness...' I request to know myself. Humanoid creatures with only one eye, or a body of a horse, and other various creatures from childhood tales come to mind. I shake those thoughts away.

"Once you know about us, it's difficult to avoid us," he murmurs, his voice trailing off into nothing.

"You don't seem bad," I blurt out, trying to lift his spirits. 'But he is from this new another world,' voices whisper in the back of my mind.

"Heh, thanks," Cole replies, his lips twitching up into a smirk, but the frown remains ever-present. 'I wonder then, how many humans out there don't know vampires and werewolves exist. They say ignorance is bliss, but really, it's just a dark blanket over our heads,' I note darkly. I take a deep breath and sigh. I gaze up towards the dark ceiling above my head. Soft footsteps walk, and faint voices chat above. I focus, straining to the people talking upstairs, but I can't quite hear. I'm just itching to know what's going on.

"What's going on?" I murmur to Cole.

"Sounds like they're talking about a place to hold an auction," Cole tells me.

"Of course, I can find a slot for you. Your hold never disappoints. How many do ya got?" asks a man's voice, gruff and impatient sounding.

"About ten, maybe more," replies the other man with a careless demeanor. This voice belonged to the man with the shaggy, black hair.

"You're getting old, are ye? Usually, you have more than that for me," he states gruffly.

"I suppose you're right, but I'm just trying to get some quick cash this time," the shaggy-haired man explains, "I'd like to get my auction building up and running again. I just have a rental fee and scrape off some debt to the landlord," the shaggy-haired man adds.

"You're always in debt, you know. You ought to look into on of those uh- blood bank places. I hear from the ladies at the inn that the blood holders are wealthy. Fed, rich, and well respected," the other replies. The two men holler and howl at this suggestion. I shudder at the name, blood bank. I can only imagine what a "blood bank" means to a vampire.

"Are any vampires kind?" I question Cole. I have some hope in my heart that I'll be lucky. Perhaps there'll be a nice master that will treat me well. Cole shrugs and averts his gaze.

"I hate to bear bad news, but it's unlikely to find such a vampire these days," he admits.

"But, if you're lucky, the vampire will be older. Older vampires have fewer cravings, and they're more likely to be more disciplined than the younger generation of vampires. The younger generation is made of vampires in a constant blood lust," he tells me. I gulp, my insides churning. I take a deep breath.

"If I'm lucky," I murmur to myself. 'I was captured by vampires. I don't think I'm fortunate, but I can hope,' I decide. I could hope!

"Master is going to auction me this time," he murmurs with a huff. His frown deepens. Cole twiddles his thumbs together and starts grinding his teeth. "It's going to be rough," he adds. Cole hangs his head low, letting his sandy blond hair hand in his face. His hair isn't long, but it's not super short either. He reeks of despair. 'In this word, the world of supernatural, is despair common?' I wonder. 'Would hoping in this despair-filled world make me naive? Or would it make me strong?' I wonder.

"But you can hope," I remind him. Cole looks up at me with wide blue eyes. His stone-like eyes waver, softening with warmth.

"You can hope for a kind master," I suggest, half dreamily to ward off the despair. Cole gives me a small smile.

"I suppose," Cole sighs.

"After all, hope is what keeps us going," I chime at him. Lightfoot steps come down the stairs. The girl is back with a plate of fruit and this time with water. I grab for another peach and scuffle away as the others rush in desperately. The lukewarm water is worth a few sips. Though it is only a small amount of water, it is still water. It means I won't die of dehydration. As long as I survive, I can escape one day, this dangerous road will not take me. Fate has something better for me. I can hope.